MOVIE REVIEW: 'Book of Henry' bereft of novel ideas

Writer Gregg Hurwitz crams just about every clichéd plot element he can think of into an overstuffed story that takes on terminal cancer, child abuse, vigilantism, grief and sassy waitressing.

By Al Alexander/For The Patriot Ledger

I’ll give “The Book of Henry” one thing: It’s certainly unique. It’s also a befuddling mess with its sour mix of genres, abrupt tonal shifts and crazy-as-hell plot about a childish mother more adept at playing video games than raising her two preteen sons. Writer Gregg Hurwitz, a novelist who knows nothing about screenplays, crams just about every clichéd plot element he can think of into an overstuffed story that defies credulity with a vengeance. But it’s “Jurassic World” director Colin Trevorrow who’s the real dodo, searching futilely for a clue on how to present Hurwitz’s weirdo interpretation of suburbia on steroids. We’re talking sensory overload, as the movie proves determined to take on terminal cancer, child abuse, vigilantism, grief and sassy waitressing – all in the tight expanse of 109 minutes. Besides their shared case of ADHD, Trevorrow (the upcoming “Star Wars” episode IX) and Hurwitz hold nothing back in letting it all marinate in buckets of treacle and cutesiness. We’re expected to laugh and cry, but all you can do is cringe at every well-telegraphed plot twist and cheap play on our inherent reactions to children resiliently enduring sickness and abuse in what can best be described as a Spielbergian hell.

The setting is a picturesque, by-the-Hudson tree-lined berg of sturdy Victorians peeking out from under piles of fallen leaves. It’s autumn, a signal that winter lays ahead for our modern family of Carpenters: mom Susan (Naomi Watts), and her sons, 8-year-old Peter (“Room” spitfire Jacob Tremblay) and 11-year-old boy genius Henry (Jaeden Lieberher from “Masters of Sex”). He’s the “Henry” from the title, and he hails from the same screenwriting universe as Doogie Howser and Sheldon Cooper. He’s smart. Annoyingly so. Although Lieberher’s finely realized performance makes him at least tolerable, as the filmmakers pound us over the head with the fact that he’s the only adult in a household where he handles all the finances and crises while his mother plants herself in front of the Nintendo box every waking hour she’s not waitressing.

He also builds elaborate treehouses in the nearby woods, cobbled together – with Hollywood production designer sensibilities – out of discarded fridges, TVs and other assorted junk. And inside said fort, he constructs Rube Goldberg-like mechanical contraptions that include rolling cue balls, dominoes and flippers. He’s also a bit of an artist, an architect and extemporaneous speaker, discussing existentialism in front of his confused-looking fifth-grade classmates. How sweet! He’s so perfect, you get the feeling he’ll soon join Jared Kushner in solving all the world’s problems.

For now, though, his focus is on rescuing the girl next door. Her name is Christina, and she looks amazingly like the leotarded little imp we’ve seen gyrating around the stage at every Sia concert since time began. But you probably know Maggie Ziegler best for her work under her now-imprisoned instructor on “Dance Moms.” And given her one-dimensional performance here, dance is where she ought to stay. Not that she gets much help from Trevorrow, who instructs her to maintain a whipped-puppy expression throughout. In other words, nuance is not their game.

She looks that way because her police-commissioner stepdad (Dean Norris from “Breaking Bad”) has been physically abusing her on a regular basis. And thanks to the fact that no one in this movie ever invested in shades or curtains, Henry watches it happen night after night. What’s he to do? He can’t rely on social services because it’s run by the commish’s kin. And he’s too small to beat the guy up. So why not draw up an intricate murder plot? Yeah! That’s what every other kid would do. But life throws a wrench into his plans, and now it’s Mom’s duty to see the scheme through – if she can only find the courage to put a cap in the commish’s bald pate.

Lost in all this is the extremely talented Tremblay, who is given nothing to do beyond look adorable in his flaps-down wool cap while sustaining beatings by schoolyard bullies. That leaves it to Watts to save the movie as well as the day. And she’s simply not up for it – through no fault of her own. Blame that on a story that lacks direction, cohesion and purpose. And just who is this film for? It’s too childish for adults and too adult for kids. More than that, it’s too stupid and ridiculous for anyone with a half a brain. Don’t judge this “Book” by its cover; judge it by the glaringly empty pages inside. THE BOOK OF HENRY (PG-13 for thematic elements and brief strong language.) Cast includes Naomi Watts, Jaeden Lieberher, Jacob Tremblay, Maddie Ziegler and Dean Norris. Grade: C.